


i love l.a.

by MeansToOffend (goodmorning)



Series: Pick Me Up (Again) [16]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017-2018 NHL Season, But The Flowers, Los Angeles Kings, M/M, i've written too many of these and my brain is falling out, this is literally just a prequel about The Flower Incident, to the fic from the other series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26327122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorning/pseuds/MeansToOffend
Summary: "Mainly the team owes what they do have to their goaltending, and Quickie deserves better than he’s getting from them all. What better time to show the team’s appreciation than his birthday?"
Relationships: Anže Kopitar/Jonathan Quick
Series: Pick Me Up (Again) [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1180688
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	i love l.a.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Voice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14380179) by [MeansToOffend (goodmorning)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorning/pseuds/MeansToOffend). 



It’s not really clear when Quickie’s birthday turned into a curse, but it is one now. He doesn’t think they’ve won a game on January 21st for seven years, at least. Maybe someone broke a mirror, maybe it’s simple coincidence, but Kopi is a hockey guy, and he believes in superstition, if only a little.

It doesn’t help that they haven’t won in almost three weeks. Sure, there are excuses - the bye week, sparse scheduling, tough opponents - but nothing changes the fact that the feeling of crushing Edmonton on the second has been trickling away faster and faster since the moment that final buzzer sounded.

It also doesn’t help that they’re barely hanging on in the playoff race, tenth in the west, firmly at the back of the pack of bubble teams, only Anaheim behind them still hoping to make the postseason.

Still, Kopi tries not to think about these things too much; his focus is on helping his team compete in a league that’s seeing a transition to speed leave them slowly behind. Mainly they owe what they do have to their goaltending, and Quickie deserves better than he’s getting from them all. What better time to show the team’s appreciation than his birthday?

(And yes, Kopi’s cognizant that maybe it’s not so much “the team” as it is himself, and that it’s not so much “appreciation” as it is a ten-year crush. That doesn’t mean he’s planning on admitting it anytime soon.)

Deciding on a good gift, a token of appreciation that doesn’t scream his love from every facet, is more difficult than he’d originally thought. Quickie is a quiet man of quiet habits, and there’s nothing he wants or needs that he can't just buy for himself. There's no item he can find that Kopi doesn't shoot down immediately, no subscription service or food-of-the-month club good enough for this. 

The day of the game, Quickie's birthday, comes too soon. In desperation, Kopi cuts his nap short to slowly drive to the arena, looking wildly around at every storefront in the hope that this one, or that one, might show him the answer he's looking for. But he's almost there, ready to give up, before out of the corner of his eye a riot of color grabs his focus.

It's a flower shop. When Kopi parks and walks in he can hear humming, though he can't quite figure out where it's coming from. He clears his throat and almost dies of shock as a grinning face pops up from behind a giant bouquet of white roses.

"Be with you in a second!" the florist calls, and goes right back to humming. 

Kopi almost walks out. But… he really does want to give Quickie a present, and flowers are the only half-decent idea he's managed to have. So he sighs, but stays.

The florist's nametag says Taylor. Kopi waits several minutes before trying it out.

"So, uh, Taylor," he tries, and there's a sound of falling plants.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry, I forgot you were in here! What can I get for you?" 

Kopi looks around wildly, starts to gesture at the plants, stops himself when he realizes what the florist means. "Uh, something not too bright or strong-smelling? I don't know much about flowers."

Taylor smiles understandingly. "Well, who are they for?"

"My, uh, coworker…'s birthday."

"Can you tell me a little more about them?"

"He's…" he trails off, thinking of sharp and vague, tense and relaxed, limber and unyielding, "contradictory." Taylor grins. "Also, he's a terrible driver," Kopi adds, a little inconsequentially, and Taylor raises an eyebrow, grin turning knowing.

Kopi leaves the flower shop with an armful of flowers in various pastel pinks and purples and yellows, mostly smelling like plants with a hint of something sweeter underneath, and feels weirdly energized, despite the weird interactions with the florist and missing some of his nap. He's almost looking forward to the game now, most of the original dread gone.

\--

Quickie shows up to the rink earlier than most of his teammates. It’s a habit that’s always worked well for him; it gives him time to prepare his equipment before he stretches, so he doesn’t have to rush himself and risk injury or breakages. It being his birthday makes no difference; he still has to play, and he’s still going to do it right.

He hasn’t won in a while. This isn’t something that usually gets to him - everyone has cold streaks, no big deal - but it’s starting to creep up on him every now and again when he’s working out, or stretching, or especially when he’s hanging out at home trying to figure out what to put on TV so his giant house is a little less quiet. 

When Quickie pulls into the parking lot, Kopi’s car is there. That’s not completely out of the ordinary, given their driving styles, but it’s not what Quickie would call typical, either. Curious, he goes inside, keeping an eye out for Kopi the whole way in.

He doesn’t find Kopi.

What he does find is a huge bouquet of flowers in his stall. There’s no card, but there is a giant piece of paper taped to the empty stall next to his that reads, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY QUICKIE” in all caps, “from your favorite teammates,” scribbled below, with plenty of space left over for, he assumes, the guys to sign it.

There’s only one signature so far: Kopi.

Kopi the captain; Kopi the caretaker; Kopi who stretches with him; Kopi who walked with him in the depths of the Staples Center with Cup and Conn Smythe, and smiled when all Quickie could think about was nothing to do with hockey but simply how much he wanted to kiss him.

Quickie takes a deep breath of flower-scented air and can’t help but smile. He knows it’s unlikely that this could ever be more than a simple happy birthday wish on Kopi’s part, but despite himself he still feels warm.

**Author's Note:**

> \- The stuff about not having won a game on Quick's birthday in seven years, up to the time the fic takes place, was true, which is a shitty birthday present tbh.  
> \- Is Taylor Taylor Hall? No. Is Taylor Taylor Swift? No. Is Taylor non-binary? I mean, that's how I wrote them. Is the name Taylor a reference to The Banner? Yes.  
> \- Title is from the Randy Newman song of the same title, which has been the Kings' goal song, or part of the Kings' goal song, for a while now.  
> \- Did I slightly retcon my own flowers incident? Yes, but only slightly.


End file.
